


“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

by gothoria



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Abusive Neil Hargrove, Billy Hargrove Needs Love, Billy Hargrove Needs a Hug, California, Canonical Child Abuse, Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Corporal Punishment, Gay Billy Hargrove, Gen, Hurt Billy Hargrove, I HATE THESE TAGS, Neil Hargrove Being an Asshole, Neil Hargrove's A+ Parenting, Religion, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sickness, billy hargrove’s medallion, inspired by the sinner, it’s nothing major, losing your religion, the one rice scene, truly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:00:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27163549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothoria/pseuds/gothoria
Summary: The rice stings the skin on Billy’s knees. He shuffles around, digging his knees into the floor. The pain intensifies.It’s cruel, and it’s going to hurt so bad later when he takes a shower.He looks up and sees the image of Jesus Christ staring down at him from the crucifix on the wall.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Billy Hargrove & Neil Hargrove
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

**Author's Note:**

> “Never shall I forget those moments that murdered my God and my soul and turned my dreams to ashes.” - Elie Wiesel
> 
> Highly recommend listening to ‘Losing my Religion’ by R.E.M.

Susan gets sick one day when Billy is 14. 

They go to church on the next Sunday after, and his dad asks for the members to pray for a safe recovery. 

Everyone places a hand on his dad’s shoulder as the service ends. Every single one of them says, “We’re praying for her, Neil,” Every single one. They all walk out with sad looks on their faces, as if they all care about the Hargrove family.

He thinks they’re all hypocrites. Prayers won’t do anything for Susan. It certainly didn’t do anything for him.

He prayed _every night_ for his mom to come back, and every night nothing happened. He stayed awake until the sun came up, sometimes. On the weekends when he knew Neil wouldn’t check up on him to make sure he was still in bed. He prayed so much, took down the crucifix on the living room wall, and clutched it to his chest because he believed it brought him closer to God that way. His mom never came.

He even took out the Saint Christopher medallion she had worn around her neck from the hidden jewelry box under his bed, the one he managed to sneak into his room the day after she left, and put it around his own. He had clutched it in his hands, had gotten down on his knees and prayed _so_ hard. He willed his mother to come back home, he whispered to the air that he would do anything, _anything,_ for his mom to come back. He had bruises on both his knees for weeks afterward. 

Either God had a serious vendetta against him, or he just didn’t exist. He goes with the latter. 

Susan doesn’t get better. She gets worse. Billy knows those shitty prayers won’t do anything, and yet Neil still drags him and Max to church every Sunday and Wednesday. Neil, obviously, hasn’t realized that prayer doesn’t help. She gets so sick that they eventually move her to the hospital. 

When they visit her for the first time, Billy doesn’t know what to expect. He’s been to the hospital multiple times, thanks to his dad, but it’s only ever been _him_ in that hospital bed. Usually with a busted nose, black eye, and maybe a broken limb. Susan has none of those. What she has is a pale complexion, a stack of pills by her bedside, and a ventilator. 

She has pneumonia. It’s severe, but the doctors think with just one or two more days she will be alright. She’s responding nicely to the antibiotics they have her on. 

The only problem is that Billy had been sick before this too. He had caught a cold from one of his school friends. He had to take more deep breaths than usual after basketball practice. 

His dad thinks it’s _his_ fault that Susan’s sick.

He tells Billy this in the middle of the hospital room. The doctors have cleared out already, so he was waiting for this moment to blame Billy. He never patronizes Billy in front of people. It’s a bad image. Neil still wants to pretend like their family is happy and good and perfectly fucking normal.

Billy argues when he shouldn’t. 

“All I had was a cold! It wasn’t that bad! Not like this.” 

“Didn’t you say you had trouble breathing, Billy?” 

He stutters over his words, “Y-Yes, but-”

Neil holds up his hand, levels Billy with a glare _so_ powerful that Billy thinks he might combust. 

“Let’s go home. We can discuss this there.” 

Billy nods and grabs his jean jacket off the bedside table. He slips it on and makes his way outside with Max trailing behind him.

Max. He kinda hates her, kinda doesn’t. She’s on the fence. 

They had had some nice moments. Moments without his dad breathing down his neck, reminding Billy that it was his fault his mom had up and left the both of them. 

Billy had taught her how to skate, how to surf, how to steal oranges from the market, and how to avoid every person who walked down the street. 

He tried to be a good brother. A good step-brother, at least. 

Max pokes and prods though, she doesn’t let go of the little details she notices about him. 

She asks him where he got his Saint Christopher medallion from. She doesn’t stop asking him. She asks where he got that bruise on his neck, that _hickey_ , she means. She doesn’t stop asking. She’s _always_ curious. 

So, one day, he snaps. He tells her to shut up from his bed and watches as her mouth opens and closes before it settles into a hard line. She glares at him, pivots out of his doorway, and slams his door closed. 

Seems like the door to a good relationship with her closes too because, after that, it’s no more questions. No more anything. She ignores him, and he ignores her. It’s a fair trade-off. He gets the peace and quiet he wants. 

“Why didn’t you say you got it from Diego Rivera?” 

He looks over to his right and finds her standing right beside him, asking questions again. 

“Wouldn’t have mattered. Now, shut it.” He says. He watches as she rolls her eyes. For a 7-year-old, Billy thinks she’s fiery. She doesn’t let anyone push her around. 

Not like Billy lets his dad push him around. 

His dad unlocks the truck. They all pile in, and then they’re driving down the streets of Los Angeles. 

The city is possibly the only good thing Billy’s got going for him. He can’t get into clubs yet, but he can go to Santa Monica pier, he can go steal oranges by himself at the Farmer’s Market, and he can go to Venice Beach and surf. Sometimes, he goes to the secluded one his mom used to take him to all the time, and just sits in the sand, hoping that she’ll be there when he turns around to go back home. 

She never is. 

The sun is setting, and it reminds him of the beach too. How they used to stay until sunset, how they used to play in the sand, and make castles and houses. How Billy’s mom never cared how long they stayed out for because the only thing that mattered was that they were together.

It feels different now when he goes there. Lonely. 

They get home quicker than usual, or so it seems. Maybe it’s Billy’s nerves because his dad hasn’t stopped turning around to look at Billy every few minutes like he’s a predator in the wild and Billy is his prey. 

He hears the beginning notes of Stevie Nicks’ _Edge of Seventeen_ . His dad shuts the radio off, “ _Fucking dyke_.” He doesn’t argue that Stevie’s been in a relationship with a man, because that would mean he cares about who Neil is calling a dyke, and Neil will twist his words so far that he will only hear Billy saying that he’s a fag. 

He likes Stevie Nicks. He likes Fleetwood Mac, actually. His mom was obsessed with them, and Billy feels like that means he’s connected to the band. 

He listens to heavy metal, though. Iron Maiden, Ozzy Osbourne, that new band, Mötley Crüe, Scorpions, and AC/DC. He likes those too, mainly because it drowns out everything in his mind and lets him go crazy. It’s one of his many forms of rebellion, heavy metal, smoking, drinking, skipping school. He only skips school when he knows Neil is out for work, though. He doesn’t risk beatings. 

“Get out. Grab the rice from the cabinets when you get inside the house.” 

Billy groans inwardly. 

Rice. Great. He fucked up, huh? His dad is going to make him kneel on uncooked rice for a half hour, and it will leave Billy with more markings on his knees. 

He nods though, nods and walks into the house, and heads straight to the kitchen. He grabs the rice from the kitchen cabinet, has to reach behind the rest of the food because they rarely eat white rice anymore. 

He hears the door to Max’s room close. 

That’s not good. 

Not good at all. Normally, Max stays in the living room. 

She stays in the living room, playing with the TV remote, kicking her feet back and forth, and leaving scratch marks on the wooden floor and indents in the 70s floral sofa his mom bought. She looks over her shoulder sometimes, she catches his eye and quickly turns away because he always gives her his scariest glare when she turns around to look at him. 

Sometimes, she grabs a book off the bookshelf and starts reading. It’s almost always discarded on the coffee table for a comic that Billy knows is one of the many he has stashed under his bed. He gives her hell for it every time. 

Billy looks into the living room through the kitchen entryway. He can only see Neil walking up to the front door. The TV is off. The lights are off too, the only source of light is coming from the big window behind the TV. It floods the room with a golden hue. Billy sorta wishes he was outside, basking in the setting sun, and not grabbing rice from his green kitchen cabinet. 

Fuck, he must’ve really fucked up... 

“Give that here,” Neil says. He walks over to Billy after he’s closed the front door. Billy does so. The packet of rice weighs nothing and yet he still passes it over slowly, like he’s in a trance and can barely do any movement at all. 

His dad closes the cabinet, moves over to the sink, and holds the bag of rice under a stream of water for a few seconds. The light coming in from the window above the sink makes Neil look nicer than he is. Billy watches his movements in a daze, the light is getting stronger now and it makes his eyes hurt until he can no longer see Neil. His dad has walked behind Billy. He’s breathing heavily, and that’s how Billy knows this punishment will last an hour, at least. 

Neil grabs the back of his neck so roughly that Billy yelps and tenses up, “We’re going to pray for Susan, okay? You’re going to pray that _whatever_ you gave her goes away. Soon. We can’t afford any more hospital days.” 

Billy nods, walks with Neil to the living room, and bites down on his lower lip when he sees all the rice Neil is spreading in front of the crucifix. He’s never put that much. It’s only ever a small line. This looks more like Neil spilled the entire package of rice in a line. 

Neil steps away. Billy takes that as his cue to kneel. He should’ve changed back into his jeans, he shouldn’t have stayed in his basketball shorts. His knees will only hurt more. 

The rice crackles when Billy’s skin meets it, and it digs into his knees. It’s an unpleasant sensation, it’s going to leave dents in his tanned skin. His friends will ask what happened and Billy will say that he got into a skating accident. That’s all. He laces his hands together, like he’s expected to, and bows his head.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” He starts. Neil is still hovering behind him. “I have succumbed, and I have brought illness to Susan,” Neil lowers himself and then his rough hand is gripping the back of Billy’s neck, “To your _mother_ , Billy.” He tightens his hold on Billy’s neck for a minute before releasing him. Billy lurches forward the slightest bit and tries his hardest to not cry. 

_Don’t cry._

“I have brought illness to my mother. Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I have succumbed, and I have brought illness to my mother. Forgive me, Father-”

He goes on. He hears Neil sigh, then he hears him kneel. The rice crackles and snaps under the weight. He joins Billy, clasps his hands together too, and starts reciting.

When Billy messes up again, says ‘ _Susan_ ,’ instead of ‘ _My mother_ ,’ he knows he’s in for it. 

He can hear Neil swallow. Billy hopes that he’s swallowing down his anger. 

He finds out he’s wrong in a fraction of a second when the back of Neil’s hand meets his cheek. 

Billy goes down with a groan, he feels his head thump against the wooden flooring when he lands on it. “She is your _mother_ ! Not _Susan_.” His father roars. Billy hasn’t got the strength to speak. His cheek hurts. It feels like his dad has injected him with something numb and cold. 

He wonders if the next-door neighbors ever hear. He wonders if the next-door neighbors ever _pray_ for him. He wonders if they’ve ever prayed that God will save him from that house and if they’ve ever prayed that God will damn Neil to hell.

It doesn’t matter anyway because there is no hell, there is no heaven, and there is certainly no God that will save Billy from Neil’s hands.

God had his chance. He could’ve whispered into his mother’s ear to take Billy with her, and he didn’t. He let Billy’s mom leave and damned Billy. He _damned_ Billy to stay with Neil. 

He thinks staying with Neil is worse than any hell the big man upstairs could ever make up.

Neil doesn’t like the fact that Billy hasn’t responded. He gets up from his position in front of the crucifix and starts kicking his boot into Billy’s side. “You say what I want you to say, boy!” Billy whimpers and nods, “She’s my mother..” He cries out. It’s not enough though. 

Neil is already fired up and ready to go. He doesn’t normally push Billy around when Max is around, but things change. Billy knows that first-hand. 

He tries his best to control the grunts of pain, the moans he wants to let out when Neil hits his ribs. He brings his hands up to protect his face. It leaves his ribs even more exposed.

Every kick sends pain barreling into his stomach. It sloshes his insides around, and makes the skin feel heavy, like it’s being weighed down by something. His bones are on the cusp of being broken, he can tell. Neil would relish in his pain. If Neil were to put more power into his kicks though, there would be more hospital bills to pay and money has been tight lately. They both know that. 

He tries his best to not cry. He doesn’t _want_ to cry. He ends up crying anyway. 

Tears start streaming down his face, he can taste them on his lips. He can feel the snot come out of his nose. It feels disgusting. He tries to take a deep breath but his lungs refuse to cooperate and every time he tries, he just hiccups. He tries to calm himself down, tells himself to _stop crying_ . He can’t. It feels like he might _never_ stop crying. Now that he’s broken down, laying on his side on the wooden floor, he can sense that there has been something building in him. The tears have broken through and are like a waterfall. He tells himself, again, to _stop crying_. 

Neil notices the tears, kneels down to smack Billy again. He grabs a fistful of Billy’s hair and yanks on it to force Billy’s head up the slightest bit. “No son of mine is a _fag_. Faggots cry, Billy. That’s a sin. You wanna be a sinner?” Billy muffles a sob and shakes his head, “No, sir.” Neil sends another kick flying into his stomach. 

He rises. He spits on Billy. 

“Be a man, Billy.” 

Billy nods and brings down a hand to bite down into it. He’s still crying. It’s quieter though, muffled by the skin on the back of his hand. 

It’s now that he realizes how much pain he’s in. They must’ve been kneeling down on the uncooked rice for an hour because Billy can see the tiny cuts and openings his knees have now. He twists around to see the time on the grandfather clock next to the kitchen entryway. It sends pain to his sides when he does so. 

It’s nearly 9. It’s dark outside. There is no light streaming in to comfort him with memories of watching the sunset with his mother and father, back when they were a _happy_ family trying their best. 

He picks himself up off the floor, takes a shower, hisses when the scalding water hits the scrapes on his knees, and the bruises littering his stomach. 

He settles into bed and doesn’t bother pulling the covers up. He knows it will only irritate the bruises more. 

He does, however, contemplate something. He contemplates taking the crucifix down from its place on the living room wall and burning it to ashes.

It would be easy to take it out to Venice Beach, where someone is always hosting a bonfire party, and to just throw it into the flames. He could get rid of it. Quick and clean. He would never have to kneel before a false god ever again. A god who just allowed him to get beaten. A god who sent his mother away. 

God has never done anything for Billy. Why shouldn’t he get to do this one thing in retaliation?

He tiptoes over to the living room, avoids the floorboards that squeak when there’s pressure put on them. He gets to the living room and reaches for the crucifix and takes it down. He grips it in his arms. When he makes it back to his room, he settles it down on the floor lightly. It makes a slight noise. Billy holds his breath when it does, hopes that Neil hasn’t heard it. 

When the coast is clear, he takes a closer look at the depiction in his arms. He could open up his window, sneak out, and get to Venice Beach in 45 minutes. It would be _so_ easy.

Only he’s smarter than that. It will only bring him _more_ trouble, _more_ kicks to his ribs. So, he sneaks back into the living room and places it back on the wall. Makes sure it’s straight and free of dust. 

For now, he tunes out the hymns they make him recite during Mass. He tunes out the usher who sings psalms about how God is great and God is good. He receives his Holy Communion. He bids everyone goodbye when Neil asks him to. He pretends that he still believes in a merciful and wise god. 

He avoids all eye contact with the image of Jesus Christ hanging from a crucifix in his living room.

**Author's Note:**

> i’m not even catholic guys so if i drastically messed something up, please let me know so i can change it. anywayy, as always, im hoping this was good? maybe? religion is always a touchy subject and i honestly felt like the only reason billy would ever hang onto his saint christopher medallion would be because it was his mom’s.


End file.
